


Almalexia's Proving

by TonalModulator



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: ALMSIVI adjust to divinity, Gen, post-Battle of Red Mountain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonalModulator/pseuds/TonalModulator
Summary: Almalexia proves her existence to her Anticipation.
Relationships: Almalexia & Boethiah, Indoril Almalexia & Sotha Sil & Vivec
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	Almalexia's Proving

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I can't imagine that the Prince of Unlawful Overthrow of Authority was anything but impressed at ALMSIVI's betrayal and ascension.

Almalexia and her companions were gathered in the central chamber of the newly-redefined Mournhold Temple. They had been working nonstop since their return from Red Mountain, but they had made significant progress in shifting the temple toward reflecting the people’s new gods. They did not have much choice, really. There could be no smooth transitions when one of the spurned gods had laid a curse on the people in her rage and left the new gods to deal with the fallout.

The halls of the temple had been stripped of grand shrines to the Good Daedra, relegating them to honored ancestors whose place was in the past. In their place were shrines to the new, living gods. No idols adorned the new shrines, for there was no need for static depictions when the gods themselves would reside there. Instead, they were planning to put up banners labeled with each of their initials and decorating their respective spaces with reflections of themselves.

Each was working on the decorations at their personal shrine when the door to the chamber opened. Almalexia spun around with grace, despite the surprise, lifted her feet off the floor, and double-checked her glow to make sure it was sufficiently divine.

The visitor was a Dunmer who looked to have been acutely affected by the change, with skin like obsidian and eyes like blood. She strode in confidently, and with her came a deep, strong sense of _something_ , though Almalexia could not say exactly what.

“We are sorry, sera,” Almalexia said to the visitor, “but the Temple is closed to the public during this period of transition.”

The visitor was undeterred. She continued walking until she was directly in front of Almalexia, and stopped.

“I would have just a moment of your time,” the visitor said. It was not a request.

Almalexia remained firm in the face of this brazen subject. “We are not holding audience at this time, dear child,” she said. “If you have requests to make of us, you need only pray. We will hear you.”

That was, perhaps, not entirely true, but she and Vehk were getting better at the modified Psijic projection methods that Seht had taught them. They would be able to receive all of their subjects’ prayers soon enough.

Still, the visitor remained. Almalexia’s companions slowly moved to her side. Vehk had a sense of cautious curiosity, but from Seht, she could feel tension, anxiety, even a hint of anger.

“With what shall you prove your existence?” the visitor asked.

Almalexia froze. Her practiced exterior faltered. She heard a small inhale from Vehk as ze too realized what Seht must have already put together moments earlier. Their states synchronized.

“Pardon me?”

“Prove that you exist,” the spirit said. She grew in height to be at eye-level with Almalexia. “It should be a simple task for the one who means to replace me.”

Their anger flared through Ayem. “Would you have me pull out my dagger and stab one of my friends?” she scoffed. “I am not simply _replacing_ you, Prince Boethiah. We are _moving on_ from you. We are a new people, at your companion’s insistence. My companions and I shall serve this new people as gods. We are no longer bound by your chaotic whims.”

Boethiah did not look angry. Her expression was mostly even, but bore the faintest hint of approval. She held out her hand and produced a suit of mail.

“Take this,” she said. “Consider it a housewarming gift.”

“I…cannot accept this,” Almalexia said. “I cannot simply wear a Daedric artifat while trying to guide our people away from Daedra worship.”

Boethiah shrugged, hand still extended. “Like it or not, you have earned it. Wear it, or do not. Display it, or hide it away. It does not matter. I will reclaim it as my chaotic whims dictate.”

Ayem felt out for her friends’ reactions. Both seemed as surprised as she was, and their anxiety, while still far above normal, was decreasing.

She took the Ebony Mail.

“Thank you, my—” She suppressed a threefold cringe. “Thank you, Boethiah.”

The Prince nodded, satisfied, and turned to leave.

“Boethiah,” Almalexia said.

The Prince turned back around to face her. Almalexia drew her dagger. Her friends’ anxiety shot up, but she sent them the reassurance that she was not going to stab either of them. Instead, she turned the dagger on her own hand and let three drops of blood hit the temple floor.

“There,” she said. “There is your proof. But it is fleeting. It will be cleaned up, just as my cut will heal.” She held up her hand for Boethiah and healed the wound while she watched. “Our existence is dynamic. We need not use death as proof; we are _living_ gods. Individual pieces of evidence will come and go, but there will always be evidence: from the mundane, in the spaces we inhabit, to the divine, in the miracles we perform for our people. That is our nature. That is my proving.”

A smile broke across Boethiah’s face. She looked at each of the Three in turn, then around the chamber that they were redecorating, and then back at Almalexia.

“Proof indeed.”

She turned away from her usurper-champion and departed from the Temple.


End file.
